On one 15-minute bus ride last week, four different vendors got on the bus.
I like to divide these characters into two categories.
You have someone who comes on with a product and sells without explaining why they need you to buy the product. These ones typically sell fruit or biscuits.
The other class of vendors are the ones that get on the bus, get everyone's attention, and explain that this is how they try to make an honest living. These guys normally sell candy, DVDs, inspirational cards, or — most likely — fear that if you don't give them money they will turn to a life of petty crime.
On my bus ride last week, I had four of the latter variety.
The first guy got on the bus, was a little disheveled, and looked like he might not have been sober. He gave a shpiel about how he is just trying to make an honest living to get bread for his family. Then he walked up and down the aisle, giving out inspirational cards to all the passengers. After giving them us a moment to look at the cards, he walks up and the aisle again, asking people for their collaboration. Other passengers on the bus got a pictures of Jesus with some religious message. I got a picture of an adorable kitten. A bunch of other people on the bus paid 25 cents for their piece of paper. I don't normally support the vendors to begin with and didn't really see any utility in a pocket-sized picture of a kitten.
After this vendor completed his rounds and got off the bus, another one took over. This one was a loud guy with an obvious coastal accent. Instead of selling any specific product, he went with a sob story about how he was mugged and didn't have any money. He also said that at some point in the past he was shot four times in the stomach. He lifted up his shirt to "show" but then covered his stomach up before anyone could notice whether or not he was lying. He went up and down the aisle collecting contributions before getting off the bus.
Another vendor immediately got on. This one was talking about how by selling Christmas CDs to put bread on his family's table. He repeated the same routine as the previous two, except that most people had exhausted their loose change at this point and didn't have much to contribute.
Another guy got on the bus selling little candies, but I had to get off before he finished his routine.
Neither of these vendors were particularly extraordinary. The volume of vendors in such a short ride — it was only a mile and half make excrutiatingly long by Quito's rush hour traffic — and the contrast in sales pitches (cute kitten followed by bullet wounds) made this a blog-worthy experience.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Caption Contest
Insert your caption in the comments. You can also put your prize suggestions in the comments, as well.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Every bike ride is an adventure
As mentioned in previous posts, the city of Quito shuts down one of its main streets every Sunday morning, opening it to bikers, skaters, and walkers. The Ciclopaseo, as it is known, stretches the entire length of the city, nearly 20 miles long.
My parents like bike riding, so I figured they'd enjoy this innovative initiative. Last week, I rented a bike from a place right near my house. I showed up, paid for the two hours I planned on riding, dropped off my ID, and was on my way. The bike worked great. It was surprisingly hassle-free.
I don't know why I would have expected it to be so smooth two weeks in a row.
We showed up at the same booth where I rented bikes last week. They told us that you can't rent bikes there. The place to rent bikes is a mile and a half down the road. I tried to explain what happened last week, but my arguing this was futile.
My dad and I decided to jog to the other bike rental place while my mom waited for Sarah. (The city of Quito is situated about 2,800 meters above sea level, and my parents are not adjusted to the altitude. But I was very impressed with how my parents handled the thin air.) After a few walking breaks, we showed up to the other bike rental place.
Obviously, the employees were busy putting up a giant inflatable balloon and made us wait for 15 minutes before the could attend to us, at which point they told us there were no bikes to rent this week. I told them that they should do a much better job of customer service and communicating between their employees. Once again, it was pointless trying to explain this to them. At this point, my mom and Sarah showed up.
There was another place to rent bikes where we started our adventure that didn't open until 9:00. By then, it was open. Sarah and I ran to that bike store, rented the bikes, and met up with my parents. We were just about ready to go, right? Well, not quite.
I'm a bit taller than your average Ecuadorian, so I had to raise the seat. I borrowed a wrench and got the seat up. But when I tried to screw the bolt back on, it wouldn't tighten. The grooves on the screw had been stripped. We went to another bike store and bought a quick release screw so that whoever had to use this bike after me would have an easy time lowering the seat. (It cost about a dollar) My dad had little trouble adjusting his seat.
Finally, we were off. For the next hour, we had a lovely ride through the historic center of Quito.
Every time I ride my bike, I am amazed at this wall of laundry. I would really like to learn more about their system. I assume they use pullies, but I'd really like to know the details.
In honor of the festivals of Quito, they municipality hosted a "best facade in Quito" contest. I don't think this one won, but I thought it was pretty nice.
My parents normally ride a tandem bike and were quite impressed by this one.
As we headed back to my apartment, the back wheel on my dad's bike popped. We took it to a "mechanic" to check it out. After a ten-minute wait, we realized that the same tube had been patched at least eight times. We found the hole in the tube and realized there was no point in trying to patch this one up. Since there aren't too many bike shops in the colonial center of Quito, my dad decided to call it a day. We started thinking of ways to try and get the bike back to the bike shop.
The solution we arrived at was that my mom, dad, and Sarah would send my dad and bike in a taxi to the bike shop. I would ride ahead and meet him there.
So they walked down to pick up a cab and put the bike in the trunk, which meant it wouldn't close very well. The driver didn't have any rope to secure the bike with, so he took his shoelaces out of his shoes and tie the bike down.
Somehow, it worked. My dad and the bike showed up at the shop a few minutes after me. We dropped off the bike and didn't even have to pay for them to fix the tube. We figured they would just put another patch on it. It's probably something they do every week.
My mom and Sarah rolled in a few minutes later, which ended this week's bike ride. As my parents like to say "every bike ride is an adventure."
I can't wait to see what happens next week.
My parents like bike riding, so I figured they'd enjoy this innovative initiative. Last week, I rented a bike from a place right near my house. I showed up, paid for the two hours I planned on riding, dropped off my ID, and was on my way. The bike worked great. It was surprisingly hassle-free.
I don't know why I would have expected it to be so smooth two weeks in a row.
We showed up at the same booth where I rented bikes last week. They told us that you can't rent bikes there. The place to rent bikes is a mile and a half down the road. I tried to explain what happened last week, but my arguing this was futile.
My dad and I decided to jog to the other bike rental place while my mom waited for Sarah. (The city of Quito is situated about 2,800 meters above sea level, and my parents are not adjusted to the altitude. But I was very impressed with how my parents handled the thin air.) After a few walking breaks, we showed up to the other bike rental place.
Obviously, the employees were busy putting up a giant inflatable balloon and made us wait for 15 minutes before the could attend to us, at which point they told us there were no bikes to rent this week. I told them that they should do a much better job of customer service and communicating between their employees. Once again, it was pointless trying to explain this to them. At this point, my mom and Sarah showed up.
There was another place to rent bikes where we started our adventure that didn't open until 9:00. By then, it was open. Sarah and I ran to that bike store, rented the bikes, and met up with my parents. We were just about ready to go, right? Well, not quite.
I'm a bit taller than your average Ecuadorian, so I had to raise the seat. I borrowed a wrench and got the seat up. But when I tried to screw the bolt back on, it wouldn't tighten. The grooves on the screw had been stripped. We went to another bike store and bought a quick release screw so that whoever had to use this bike after me would have an easy time lowering the seat. (It cost about a dollar) My dad had little trouble adjusting his seat.
Finally, we were off. For the next hour, we had a lovely ride through the historic center of Quito.
Every time I ride my bike, I am amazed at this wall of laundry. I would really like to learn more about their system. I assume they use pullies, but I'd really like to know the details.
In honor of the festivals of Quito, they municipality hosted a "best facade in Quito" contest. I don't think this one won, but I thought it was pretty nice.
My parents normally ride a tandem bike and were quite impressed by this one.
As we headed back to my apartment, the back wheel on my dad's bike popped. We took it to a "mechanic" to check it out. After a ten-minute wait, we realized that the same tube had been patched at least eight times. We found the hole in the tube and realized there was no point in trying to patch this one up. Since there aren't too many bike shops in the colonial center of Quito, my dad decided to call it a day. We started thinking of ways to try and get the bike back to the bike shop.
The solution we arrived at was that my mom, dad, and Sarah would send my dad and bike in a taxi to the bike shop. I would ride ahead and meet him there.
So they walked down to pick up a cab and put the bike in the trunk, which meant it wouldn't close very well. The driver didn't have any rope to secure the bike with, so he took his shoelaces out of his shoes and tie the bike down.
Somehow, it worked. My dad and the bike showed up at the shop a few minutes after me. We dropped off the bike and didn't even have to pay for them to fix the tube. We figured they would just put another patch on it. It's probably something they do every week.
My mom and Sarah rolled in a few minutes later, which ended this week's bike ride. As my parents like to say "every bike ride is an adventure."
I can't wait to see what happens next week.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Has my dad met his match?
If you know my dad, you know how he can give a great, impromptu heart-felt speech to put the proper perspective on any occasion.
If you know Cesareo, you know how he can give a great, impromptu heart-felt speech to put the proper perspective on any occasion.
On Friday night, these two giants of on-the-spot oration squared off in what could only be described as an epic duel. Consider it Freestyle Friday at the Shabbat dinner table.
As soon as I finished recited motzi (the blessing over the bread), Ceseareo asked for the floor and delivered this speech about special it is to spend Shabbat with me and my family and how it is something new for him. It brought the house down. If you have ever seen the AND1 Mix Tape tour, this would be the equivalent of the crossover that causes the crowd to rush the floor and end the game.
Not to pass up the opportunity, my dad asked for the floor and talked about how great it is to spend Shabbat dinner with me and my friends. The crowd had already rush the court on the previous speech, so I guess they would have just stayed there and celebrated for a while after this one, relishing the special moment that these two giants of off-the-cuff inspirational commentaries just put in perspective.
Since we didn't have an actual floor to rush, we just decided to continue eating the massive quantities of food we prepared.
They went back and forth once more during the meal, but my food coma was too advanced at that point for me to get up and film anything.
A big thanks to my roommates did a great job of translating and making sure that everyone understood.
If you know Cesareo, you know how he can give a great, impromptu heart-felt speech to put the proper perspective on any occasion.
On Friday night, these two giants of on-the-spot oration squared off in what could only be described as an epic duel. Consider it Freestyle Friday at the Shabbat dinner table.
As soon as I finished recited motzi (the blessing over the bread), Ceseareo asked for the floor and delivered this speech about special it is to spend Shabbat with me and my family and how it is something new for him. It brought the house down. If you have ever seen the AND1 Mix Tape tour, this would be the equivalent of the crossover that causes the crowd to rush the floor and end the game.
Not to pass up the opportunity, my dad asked for the floor and talked about how great it is to spend Shabbat dinner with me and my friends. The crowd had already rush the court on the previous speech, so I guess they would have just stayed there and celebrated for a while after this one, relishing the special moment that these two giants of off-the-cuff inspirational commentaries just put in perspective.
Since we didn't have an actual floor to rush, we just decided to continue eating the massive quantities of food we prepared.
They went back and forth once more during the meal, but my food coma was too advanced at that point for me to get up and film anything.
A big thanks to my roommates did a great job of translating and making sure that everyone understood.
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Shabbat dinner with my parents
Friday night we had a very special Shabbat dinner in Quito.
As many of you know, Shabbat dinner is my favorite time of the week. The work week is over, and you can gather with friends and family to enjoy great food and conversation, which is exactly what happened last Friday.
This is the speech I give every Friday night when there is a new guest at the Shabbat dinner table to explain the significance of the occasion. This week's guest was Mike's host dad from the jungle, Cesareo. I was really happy to be able to share a Shabbat dinner with Cesareo.
A rough translation of this speech is that Friday night is dinner has been very special for me my entire life. I have continued this tradition in Ecuador. Welcome. I'm going to say some blessings in Hebrew over the candles, wine, and bread. Then, we'll eat.
After dinner, there is typically a folk concert in the living room.
Stay tuned for videos of dueling speeches between my dad and Cesaero.
As many of you know, Shabbat dinner is my favorite time of the week. The work week is over, and you can gather with friends and family to enjoy great food and conversation, which is exactly what happened last Friday.
This is the speech I give every Friday night when there is a new guest at the Shabbat dinner table to explain the significance of the occasion. This week's guest was Mike's host dad from the jungle, Cesareo. I was really happy to be able to share a Shabbat dinner with Cesareo.
A rough translation of this speech is that Friday night is dinner has been very special for me my entire life. I have continued this tradition in Ecuador. Welcome. I'm going to say some blessings in Hebrew over the candles, wine, and bread. Then, we'll eat.
After dinner, there is typically a folk concert in the living room.
Stay tuned for videos of dueling speeches between my dad and Cesaero.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Parents in Quito
I haven't posted a blog in a while, and my parents got worried. So they decided they needed to come down and check things out themselves.
They got here on Thursday and have been checking out different aspects of my life in Quito.
On Friday morning, there was a work day in the garden at the Peace Corps office. My parents were happy to lend a helping hand (or four). Here my mom is hauling some dead zucchini plants to the worm composting bins.
After harvesting all the zucchini plants, we decided to plant new crops. My dad put compost in each hole so the young plants would get enough nutrients.
We went to the Pre-Colombian Art Museum in the historic center of Quito (highly recommended if you get a chance) and noticed that the Block M might have its roots in ancient Ecuadorian culture. (Maize is also an indigenous plant to the region. Coincidence?)
My parent's visit also coincides with the fiestas of Quito, where people celebrate the anniversary of the city's founding. One popular way to mark this occasion is to rent the Ecuadorian version of a party bus, or a chiva. To make a chiva, put a flatbed on a pre-1960 bus, paint it with bright colors, get rid of the windows, add some wooden benches, connect some massive speakers, and buy some booze.
Every Sunday morning, they shut down one of the main avenues in Quito to motorized traffic for bikers, rollerbladers, and runners. My parents have lots of experience with tandem bicycles, but they have not seen one like this before. My mom often worries that she is not pulling her weight on the back of the tandem, but I guarantee she does more than this woman.
They got here on Thursday and have been checking out different aspects of my life in Quito.
On Friday morning, there was a work day in the garden at the Peace Corps office. My parents were happy to lend a helping hand (or four). Here my mom is hauling some dead zucchini plants to the worm composting bins.
After harvesting all the zucchini plants, we decided to plant new crops. My dad put compost in each hole so the young plants would get enough nutrients.
We went to the Pre-Colombian Art Museum in the historic center of Quito (highly recommended if you get a chance) and noticed that the Block M might have its roots in ancient Ecuadorian culture. (Maize is also an indigenous plant to the region. Coincidence?)
My parent's visit also coincides with the fiestas of Quito, where people celebrate the anniversary of the city's founding. One popular way to mark this occasion is to rent the Ecuadorian version of a party bus, or a chiva. To make a chiva, put a flatbed on a pre-1960 bus, paint it with bright colors, get rid of the windows, add some wooden benches, connect some massive speakers, and buy some booze.
Every Sunday morning, they shut down one of the main avenues in Quito to motorized traffic for bikers, rollerbladers, and runners. My parents have lots of experience with tandem bicycles, but they have not seen one like this before. My mom often worries that she is not pulling her weight on the back of the tandem, but I guarantee she does more than this woman.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Tailgate
There were so many exciting parts in last night's Michigan-Notre Dame game, but I think I know what was the most exciting part.
It wasn't Denard's pass to Roundtree with two seconds left when Hoke decided to go for the win instead of chancing it with a field goal.
It wasn't Notre Dame's drive with less then a minute left in the game to get back up on top.
It wasn't the night game atmosphere at The Big House.
In fact, the most exciting part of the night happened before the game even started and didn't even occur in the Northern Hemisphere.
It was the first piece of grilled, kosher salami that I ate on a piece of pita with hummus before kickoff.
To mark the first night game in Michigan Stadium history and share a bit of what I love about college football season with my Peace Corps friends, I decided to host a little Robinson family-style tailgate at my apartment.
The excitement continued until halftime when I polished off the salami plate. Maybe that last piece was a bit more lukewarm than the first one, but it was delicious nonetheless. (The food definitely made up for Michigan's piss poor performance in the first 30 minutes.
We streamed the game through a Sling Box and used a projector to make my living room wall the big screen. It wasn't quite like being at the corner of Stadium and Main, but there is no replacement for that.
One thing that they didn't have at Michigan Stadium was this display of chocolate-covered fruit.
The broccoli and cauliflower have non-dairy, dark chocolate.
Not all of my friends are Michigan fans, and some were even rooting for Notre Dame. That didn't really matter to me. (I'm not just writing this because Michigan ended up winning the game)
After enjoying that grilled salami before the game started, the night was already a victory. While it's great if your team wins, the most important part of Michigan football for me is to enjoy the games and tailgates with friends and family.
It wasn't Denard's pass to Roundtree with two seconds left when Hoke decided to go for the win instead of chancing it with a field goal.
It wasn't Notre Dame's drive with less then a minute left in the game to get back up on top.
It wasn't the night game atmosphere at The Big House.
In fact, the most exciting part of the night happened before the game even started and didn't even occur in the Northern Hemisphere.
It was the first piece of grilled, kosher salami that I ate on a piece of pita with hummus before kickoff.
To mark the first night game in Michigan Stadium history and share a bit of what I love about college football season with my Peace Corps friends, I decided to host a little Robinson family-style tailgate at my apartment.
The excitement continued until halftime when I polished off the salami plate. Maybe that last piece was a bit more lukewarm than the first one, but it was delicious nonetheless. (The food definitely made up for Michigan's piss poor performance in the first 30 minutes.
We streamed the game through a Sling Box and used a projector to make my living room wall the big screen. It wasn't quite like being at the corner of Stadium and Main, but there is no replacement for that.
One thing that they didn't have at Michigan Stadium was this display of chocolate-covered fruit.
The broccoli and cauliflower have non-dairy, dark chocolate.
Not all of my friends are Michigan fans, and some were even rooting for Notre Dame. That didn't really matter to me. (I'm not just writing this because Michigan ended up winning the game)
After enjoying that grilled salami before the game started, the night was already a victory. While it's great if your team wins, the most important part of Michigan football for me is to enjoy the games and tailgates with friends and family.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Like a family
I went to my first Aucas game yesterday. The game ended in a 2-2 tie. Aucas kept its hopes of advancing to the next level in the classification alive, but that wasn't the real story for me.
I have never gone to a stadium before and felt like the entire crowd was one big family.
This was unexpected.
My friends and I bought tickets in the $5 general admission section and took some seats in the bleachers on the south end of the field. I sat next to an older gentleman and his family.
I don't really remember starting a conversation with him or even saying hi. We just kept following the rhythm of the games together. We would cheer when the team got close to scoring and then berate the forward when he failed to convert what seemed like an obvious goal. When the ref would blow an obvious foul, we would be standing up questioning his judgment.
Slowly, we started to exchange a few more words. About 20 minutes into the game, he poured me some water from a bottle he was sharing with is wife and daughter. Then I called Aucas's first goal off of a free kick, and my neighbor was really impressed.
Then came halftime. I was all ready to head back to my friends' seats to see what they thought of the first half when my neighbor and his family start giving me a full plate of corn and fava beans they had brought to the game. Then even offered some pork, but I kindly declined.
It turns out that my neighbor has been an Aucas fan his entire life, goes to every game, and sits in the same seat. He even makes it out to the road games to cheer on his team. He goes to the games with his wife and daughter and knows most of the people sitting around him.
I told him that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and he started into a story about a volunteer he knew in Quito about a decade ago. We sat there chatting throughout the halftime, and I kept thinking to myself "Did I really just get a lunch from the people sitting next to me at the soccer stadium?" At the end of halftime, he gave me some fruit juice to wash down the lunch with and get ready for the second half of action.
We kept up the conversation through the ups and downs of the second half. (Aucas really should have won the game. They hit the post twice and had many more near goals. But in soccer, the only statistic that matters is on the scoreboard.) At the end of the game, I thanked him profusely for the hospitality, and we parted way. I didn't get his name, but I know exactly where to find him at any Aucas home game.
The amazing thing is that I feel like this could have happened anywhere in the stadium. Aucas's stadium is also known as La Caldera (The Cauldron). It is a place where people from anywhere in Quito can come together, putting aside their differences, and get behind their beloved Aucas.
Maybe I'm romanticizing this a bit too much. Maybe I just had great luck and sat next to a really hospitable gentleman and his family.
But it seemed like everyone in the stadium knew each other. Just walking down the street or around the stadium, it looked like a disproportionate amount of people knew each other. Maybe this what happens when the same group of 5,000 people goes to the games over the period of 30 years.
S.D. Aucas hit the peak of its popularity in the 70s.
Since then, the club hasn't had too much celebrate. In the meantime, every other team in Quito has at least qualified for continental tournaments and challenged for the national championships.
As a result, Aucas has struggled to attract new fans. So the same people have been going to the games since then. They are almost all over the age of 50.
Most of them are wearing the same shirt and hat they wore to games in the 80s, and they probably all sit in the same seats.
As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, I don't know if I can make Aucas "my team," but it is nice to know that I can go to a game and feel part of a family.
I have never gone to a stadium before and felt like the entire crowd was one big family.
This was unexpected.
My friends and I bought tickets in the $5 general admission section and took some seats in the bleachers on the south end of the field. I sat next to an older gentleman and his family.
I don't really remember starting a conversation with him or even saying hi. We just kept following the rhythm of the games together. We would cheer when the team got close to scoring and then berate the forward when he failed to convert what seemed like an obvious goal. When the ref would blow an obvious foul, we would be standing up questioning his judgment.
Slowly, we started to exchange a few more words. About 20 minutes into the game, he poured me some water from a bottle he was sharing with is wife and daughter. Then I called Aucas's first goal off of a free kick, and my neighbor was really impressed.
Then came halftime. I was all ready to head back to my friends' seats to see what they thought of the first half when my neighbor and his family start giving me a full plate of corn and fava beans they had brought to the game. Then even offered some pork, but I kindly declined.
It turns out that my neighbor has been an Aucas fan his entire life, goes to every game, and sits in the same seat. He even makes it out to the road games to cheer on his team. He goes to the games with his wife and daughter and knows most of the people sitting around him.
I told him that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and he started into a story about a volunteer he knew in Quito about a decade ago. We sat there chatting throughout the halftime, and I kept thinking to myself "Did I really just get a lunch from the people sitting next to me at the soccer stadium?" At the end of halftime, he gave me some fruit juice to wash down the lunch with and get ready for the second half of action.
We kept up the conversation through the ups and downs of the second half. (Aucas really should have won the game. They hit the post twice and had many more near goals. But in soccer, the only statistic that matters is on the scoreboard.) At the end of the game, I thanked him profusely for the hospitality, and we parted way. I didn't get his name, but I know exactly where to find him at any Aucas home game.
The amazing thing is that I feel like this could have happened anywhere in the stadium. Aucas's stadium is also known as La Caldera (The Cauldron). It is a place where people from anywhere in Quito can come together, putting aside their differences, and get behind their beloved Aucas.
Maybe I'm romanticizing this a bit too much. Maybe I just had great luck and sat next to a really hospitable gentleman and his family.
But it seemed like everyone in the stadium knew each other. Just walking down the street or around the stadium, it looked like a disproportionate amount of people knew each other. Maybe this what happens when the same group of 5,000 people goes to the games over the period of 30 years.
S.D. Aucas hit the peak of its popularity in the 70s.
Since then, the club hasn't had too much celebrate. In the meantime, every other team in Quito has at least qualified for continental tournaments and challenged for the national championships.
As a result, Aucas has struggled to attract new fans. So the same people have been going to the games since then. They are almost all over the age of 50.
Most of them are wearing the same shirt and hat they wore to games in the 80s, and they probably all sit in the same seats.
As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, I don't know if I can make Aucas "my team," but it is nice to know that I can go to a game and feel part of a family.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Idle of Quito
When it comes to professional football and soccer, I am always attracted to the most pitiful, pathetic teams. Whether it be the Lions of Detroit or Condor from Arenillas, I can't escape them.
This must be why I felt an immediate attraction to the S.D. Aucas in Quito.
Aucas has been one of the most popular teams in Quito for decades but has never won the national championship. It's main rival, Liga de Quito, has won the national championship 10 times and several continental titles.
Aucas is currently in the lowest possible divisions, the equivalent of the league Club Deportivo Condor plays in. (The way soccer works is if you are the worst team in the league, you get relegated to a lower league). It has been out of the top division for five years and out of the second division for two.
The club's glory days were from 1945-1951 when it won six provincial championships. People still talk about these teams — much like people still talk about the Lions' glory days from the 50s. Its popularity from the 50s-70s earned it the nickname Idolo de Quito (Idol of Quito). But since the 70s, Aucas's poor management and mediocrity (at best) have allowed other teams in Quito to thrive.
The team was founded by the Shell oil company in 1945, and the then-president of Shell wanted to name the team "Shell." The soccer federation didn't let him, so he chose the name Auca, which means indigenous warriors (They still adopted the red and yellow color scheme of Shell). The team's logo features a depiction of an auca. The team has since experienced many management changes over the years and is now referred to as the Ex-petroleros (former oilmen).
Will I become an Aucas fan? I don't think it will become "my team," but that doesn't mean I can't feel sympathy for their story and hope that they return to prominence in Ecuadorian soccer.
I went to the Aucas game yesterday and will post about it tomorrow (I know people these days don't like to read too much text in one sitting).
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Godfather
While I was home in May, one of my good friend's from Arenillas gave birth to a daughter.
Since returning to Quito, I had been trying to make the time to go visit my friend and meet the baby. I finally found the time a couple of weekends ago and returned to my beloved town for a couple of days.
Sarah and I headed to the border town of Huaqillas on Sunday morning to see Rosa and the baby. (Sarah still lives in the area and has already spent some time with the baby. She actually had the honor of being the first person to cut the baby's nails and is looking forward to giving the baby her first hair cut.)
We arrived at Rosa's in-laws' house, where she is currently living, and sat down in the living room to catch up. It had been more than three months since I last saw Rosa, so there was a lot to talk about. I wanted to hear all about the baby, while she wanted to hear about my vacation back home and life in Quito.
I took my turn holding the baby until she started to cry, at which point I delegated holding responsibilities to Sarah, who calmed the baby down in a matter of seconds.
After a few minutes of sitting around, everybody in the house started organizing for some activity. They prepared a bowl, a blanket, and a cup of water. I had no idea what was going on.
Then I realized that they were preparing for a baptism - surprise!!
Sarah had mentioned that Rosa asked if we could be godparents of water Andrea Victoria. But there was absolutely no indication that any kind of ceremony would happen on this visit. Because of some logistical issues, it wasn't even certain that I would have a chance to see Rosa on this visit.
This was an informal baptism, done in the comforts of the living room instead of the church. The godparents of water are seen as more of a role model for the child's moral upbringing, instead of providing for the child when the family needs it. Oftentimes in Ecuador, the godparents are seen as responsible for the child's religious upbringing. But Rosa knows that I'm Jewish, so I foresee no added responsibility.
Representing good values is something I could try to do.
Here is a video that someone from Rosa's in-laws' family took. Below you will find a play-by-play to explain what is happening in the video.
This ceremony does not require a priest to be present. You really just need someone who has done the ceremony before, so they called over some neighbors who have several children (and, therefore, some experience).
The ceremony began by reciting Ave Maria (Hail Mary) and Padre Nuestro (Our Father). Apparently you are not supposed to say "Amen" after reciting this blessing. And if someone does say "Amen," you have to repeat the blessing again. This explains why the blessing is repeated a few times.
Afterwards, the one of the godparents pours the water on the baby's head while the other crosses the baby in the name of the Holy Trinity. The crossing was Sarah's department. I was in charge of water pouring (notice how the baby didn't cry). Then the godparents blow out the candle.
Once everything is complete, the godparents take pictures with the baby and everyone present. The original video clip went on for three more minutes, but the last three minutes were just pictures. So I figured I could include some of the still shots instead.
Just a side note: I must be the only person in history to perform the function of godfather while wearing a "Callahan Auto Parts" t-shirt. It's not that I thought it was an appropriate t-shirt for the occasion. I was completely unaware that the ceremony was going to take place. If I had known, I would have at least worn something with a collar.
Because the Andrea was born prematurely and had some health issues, her parents took their time in giving her a name. So in the meantime, Sarah and some other people in town gave her the nickname Ugita. Rosa works for the UGA (Unidad de Gestion Ambiental), so she was the little member/mascot of the UGA.
Godparents, real parents, and Andrea
Godparents and Andrea
Since returning to Quito, I had been trying to make the time to go visit my friend and meet the baby. I finally found the time a couple of weekends ago and returned to my beloved town for a couple of days.
Sarah and I headed to the border town of Huaqillas on Sunday morning to see Rosa and the baby. (Sarah still lives in the area and has already spent some time with the baby. She actually had the honor of being the first person to cut the baby's nails and is looking forward to giving the baby her first hair cut.)
We arrived at Rosa's in-laws' house, where she is currently living, and sat down in the living room to catch up. It had been more than three months since I last saw Rosa, so there was a lot to talk about. I wanted to hear all about the baby, while she wanted to hear about my vacation back home and life in Quito.
I took my turn holding the baby until she started to cry, at which point I delegated holding responsibilities to Sarah, who calmed the baby down in a matter of seconds.
After a few minutes of sitting around, everybody in the house started organizing for some activity. They prepared a bowl, a blanket, and a cup of water. I had no idea what was going on.
Then I realized that they were preparing for a baptism - surprise!!
Sarah had mentioned that Rosa asked if we could be godparents of water Andrea Victoria. But there was absolutely no indication that any kind of ceremony would happen on this visit. Because of some logistical issues, it wasn't even certain that I would have a chance to see Rosa on this visit.
This was an informal baptism, done in the comforts of the living room instead of the church. The godparents of water are seen as more of a role model for the child's moral upbringing, instead of providing for the child when the family needs it. Oftentimes in Ecuador, the godparents are seen as responsible for the child's religious upbringing. But Rosa knows that I'm Jewish, so I foresee no added responsibility.
Representing good values is something I could try to do.
Here is a video that someone from Rosa's in-laws' family took. Below you will find a play-by-play to explain what is happening in the video.
This ceremony does not require a priest to be present. You really just need someone who has done the ceremony before, so they called over some neighbors who have several children (and, therefore, some experience).
The ceremony began by reciting Ave Maria (Hail Mary) and Padre Nuestro (Our Father). Apparently you are not supposed to say "Amen" after reciting this blessing. And if someone does say "Amen," you have to repeat the blessing again. This explains why the blessing is repeated a few times.
Afterwards, the one of the godparents pours the water on the baby's head while the other crosses the baby in the name of the Holy Trinity. The crossing was Sarah's department. I was in charge of water pouring (notice how the baby didn't cry). Then the godparents blow out the candle.
Once everything is complete, the godparents take pictures with the baby and everyone present. The original video clip went on for three more minutes, but the last three minutes were just pictures. So I figured I could include some of the still shots instead.
Just a side note: I must be the only person in history to perform the function of godfather while wearing a "Callahan Auto Parts" t-shirt. It's not that I thought it was an appropriate t-shirt for the occasion. I was completely unaware that the ceremony was going to take place. If I had known, I would have at least worn something with a collar.
Because the Andrea was born prematurely and had some health issues, her parents took their time in giving her a name. So in the meantime, Sarah and some other people in town gave her the nickname Ugita. Rosa works for the UGA (Unidad de Gestion Ambiental), so she was the little member/mascot of the UGA.
Godparents, real parents, and Andrea
Godparents and Andrea
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The straight shave
If you have been following this blog over the last few years, you will know that I am fascinated by facial hair. As I was shaving last night, I realized I hadn't blogged about another facial hair-related occasion that happened a few months ago. Excuse the delay, but I feel this is something that belongs on this blog.
When I was home in May, I was growing a pretty healthy beard, but I was ready for a fresh start. I was talking to my friend on the phone, and I mentioned that I was thinking about shaving my beard (what do you talk about with your friends?). He said he was also at that stage with his facial hair.
So I asked him if he wanted to go to get a straight razor shave.
This was the most common form of shaving before the development of the disposable razor in the 1950s, and I feel it was an integral part of barber shop culture that I missed out. Apparently there is only one barber in the Detroit area that offers this service - The Lincoln Barber. Luckily, this is also where my friend went to get his haircut throughout his youth, so he already had a good rapport with the barbor, Jeff.
Before he even started removing my facial hair, Jeff gave it a nice, long look. Then he said in his Russian accent "You grow a nice beard." Not too many people have complimented me on my beard growth, but I don't know if you can get a high beard-related compliment than from a barber. It's like Joan Nathan complimenting your kugel.
This man has seen thousands of beards in his life. Do you think he says that to all of his customers? Maybe. But I want to think he actually thought I had good growth.
So then he applied the lather and covered my face in a hot towel to open the pores. Then he went to work, giving me the best shave I had ever had. For the next couple of days, I would rub my face to feel how soft it was.
I also spent the next few days saying "You have nice beard" in my generic Eastern European accent.
If you would like to learn more about the straight razor shave, the YouTube will provide a nice little video.
When I was home in May, I was growing a pretty healthy beard, but I was ready for a fresh start. I was talking to my friend on the phone, and I mentioned that I was thinking about shaving my beard (what do you talk about with your friends?). He said he was also at that stage with his facial hair.
So I asked him if he wanted to go to get a straight razor shave.
This was the most common form of shaving before the development of the disposable razor in the 1950s, and I feel it was an integral part of barber shop culture that I missed out. Apparently there is only one barber in the Detroit area that offers this service - The Lincoln Barber. Luckily, this is also where my friend went to get his haircut throughout his youth, so he already had a good rapport with the barbor, Jeff.
Before he even started removing my facial hair, Jeff gave it a nice, long look. Then he said in his Russian accent "You grow a nice beard." Not too many people have complimented me on my beard growth, but I don't know if you can get a high beard-related compliment than from a barber. It's like Joan Nathan complimenting your kugel.
This man has seen thousands of beards in his life. Do you think he says that to all of his customers? Maybe. But I want to think he actually thought I had good growth.
So then he applied the lather and covered my face in a hot towel to open the pores. Then he went to work, giving me the best shave I had ever had. For the next couple of days, I would rub my face to feel how soft it was.
I also spent the next few days saying "You have nice beard" in my generic Eastern European accent.
If you would like to learn more about the straight razor shave, the YouTube will provide a nice little video.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
On nicknames
In Ecuador, nicknames typically describe your appearance.
If you are skinny, you will forever be called Flaco.
If you are chubby, you will forever be called Gordo.
If you are light-skinned, you will always be Suco.
If you have cat-like eyes, you will be called Gato.
If you have squinty eyes, you will be Chino.
If you are dark-skinned, you will be Negro
When your nickname doesn´t describe your physical appearance, it could describe one of your family members.
If you have a hot sister, other guys will probably be called cuñado (brother-in-law).
If you have a hot daughter, other guys will probably be called suegro (father-in-law).
Because I'm not privy to these kinds of conversations with Ecuadorian females, I don't now if they work both ways. I'm not sure if women call girls with hot brother cuñada (sister-in-law) or mothers with an attractive son (suegra).
I would venture to say that they don't, but I'll try and do some research to confirm this hunch.
Otherwise, your nickname could be some shortened version of your first or last name. Or in rare occasions, your friends could actually call you by your name. But this is quite rare.
If you are skinny, you will forever be called Flaco.
If you are chubby, you will forever be called Gordo.
If you are light-skinned, you will always be Suco.
If you have cat-like eyes, you will be called Gato.
If you have squinty eyes, you will be Chino.
If you are dark-skinned, you will be Negro
When your nickname doesn´t describe your physical appearance, it could describe one of your family members.
If you have a hot sister, other guys will probably be called cuñado (brother-in-law).
If you have a hot daughter, other guys will probably be called suegro (father-in-law).
Because I'm not privy to these kinds of conversations with Ecuadorian females, I don't now if they work both ways. I'm not sure if women call girls with hot brother cuñada (sister-in-law) or mothers with an attractive son (suegra).
I would venture to say that they don't, but I'll try and do some research to confirm this hunch.
Otherwise, your nickname could be some shortened version of your first or last name. Or in rare occasions, your friends could actually call you by your name. But this is quite rare.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Another state of exception
Last time Ecuador declared a state of exception, the police went on strike and might have held the president prisoner. It was a pretty unnerving time.
Ecuador declared another state of exception this week. The reason: tainted moonshine.
In the last few days, more than 20 people have died and more than a 100 hundred hospitalized after consuming bad alcohol.
From what I have read of America's alcohol consumption and production before prohibition, Ecuador seems very similar. There are several locally produced forms of hard liquor that go unregulated by the government. It is very common in the countryside where extremely potent beverages can be purchased for next to nothing.
These are often made by fermenting sugar cane in an "artisan" manner. I don't really know what they mean by "artisan." I assume they just throw the sugar juice in a vat for a few weeks and forget about it.
Apparently, someone must have messed up in making puro, as it is often referred to here. And instead of producing ethyl alcohol, they made and distributed methyl alcohol.
Ethyl alcohol is the alcohol used in alcoholic drinks. Methyl alcohol is used in the production of formaldehyde and antifreeze. Consuming as little as 10 ml of methyl alcohol can lead to blindness.
So the government has suspended all liquor sales for the next three days, and the army is authorized to stop any sale or production of these beverages.
Hopefully this sad situation resolves itself in the next few days, and the government can identify the source of the tainted booze and clean up the operation of these moonshine businesses.
As was the case when the beer company nearly shut down its operations, I'd be worried if this prohibition on booze sales continues much longer.
Ecuador declared another state of exception this week. The reason: tainted moonshine.
In the last few days, more than 20 people have died and more than a 100 hundred hospitalized after consuming bad alcohol.
From what I have read of America's alcohol consumption and production before prohibition, Ecuador seems very similar. There are several locally produced forms of hard liquor that go unregulated by the government. It is very common in the countryside where extremely potent beverages can be purchased for next to nothing.
These are often made by fermenting sugar cane in an "artisan" manner. I don't really know what they mean by "artisan." I assume they just throw the sugar juice in a vat for a few weeks and forget about it.
Apparently, someone must have messed up in making puro, as it is often referred to here. And instead of producing ethyl alcohol, they made and distributed methyl alcohol.
Ethyl alcohol is the alcohol used in alcoholic drinks. Methyl alcohol is used in the production of formaldehyde and antifreeze. Consuming as little as 10 ml of methyl alcohol can lead to blindness.
So the government has suspended all liquor sales for the next three days, and the army is authorized to stop any sale or production of these beverages.
Hopefully this sad situation resolves itself in the next few days, and the government can identify the source of the tainted booze and clean up the operation of these moonshine businesses.
As was the case when the beer company nearly shut down its operations, I'd be worried if this prohibition on booze sales continues much longer.
Friday, July 15, 2011
The dog ate my home work
I normally spend my Thursday nights baking challah for Friday night dinner.
Some of my coworkers asked me to teach them how to make the challah. So instead of baking bread in my apartment last night, I figured I could use the kitchen at work for the cooking class and take home the final product of the lesson (The Spanish phrase getting many things done with one action would be "de una").
The activity got off to a great start. It was my coworker's first time every making bread, and she was really excited when we were mixing the ingredients.
We left the dough in a pot with a glass top out in the sun for the first rise. The dough must have tripled in size. It was pretty outstanding.
Then we braided the loaves and set them out to rise again. But we decided to let them rise on the counter in the kitchen instead of out in the sun.
When I went back into the kitchen 40 minutes later to turn the oven on, the loaves weren't there.
I looked around the kitchen for evidence. Maybe someone had moved them. They had been having some issues with pests in the kitchen. I checked in all the cabinets and in the oven. Nothing.
On the ground outside the kitchen, I saw some pieces of crumpled up tin foil that might have been used for the bread.
What kind of animal would be able to climb up on the counter and grab the tin foil?
The only animals at the Peace Corps Training Center are a pair of dogs. One of them is so pregnant she can hardly move. The other has at least four bad legs, a bad hip, has a huge head, can't stop slobbering, and can barely walk up steps. He usually needs someone to give him a boost to get up the steps.
I didn't think that either of these dogs could scale the three-foot counter to reach the foil.
I walked around outside and saw the floppy dog taking down the last bit of dough.
At least someone enjoyed my challah this week.
Some of my coworkers asked me to teach them how to make the challah. So instead of baking bread in my apartment last night, I figured I could use the kitchen at work for the cooking class and take home the final product of the lesson (The Spanish phrase getting many things done with one action would be "de una").
The activity got off to a great start. It was my coworker's first time every making bread, and she was really excited when we were mixing the ingredients.
We left the dough in a pot with a glass top out in the sun for the first rise. The dough must have tripled in size. It was pretty outstanding.
Then we braided the loaves and set them out to rise again. But we decided to let them rise on the counter in the kitchen instead of out in the sun.
When I went back into the kitchen 40 minutes later to turn the oven on, the loaves weren't there.
I looked around the kitchen for evidence. Maybe someone had moved them. They had been having some issues with pests in the kitchen. I checked in all the cabinets and in the oven. Nothing.
On the ground outside the kitchen, I saw some pieces of crumpled up tin foil that might have been used for the bread.
What kind of animal would be able to climb up on the counter and grab the tin foil?
The only animals at the Peace Corps Training Center are a pair of dogs. One of them is so pregnant she can hardly move. The other has at least four bad legs, a bad hip, has a huge head, can't stop slobbering, and can barely walk up steps. He usually needs someone to give him a boost to get up the steps.
I didn't think that either of these dogs could scale the three-foot counter to reach the foil.
I walked around outside and saw the floppy dog taking down the last bit of dough.
At least someone enjoyed my challah this week.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Quito and its running culture
When I was living in Arenillas, I would jog in the mornings.
It was a great way for me to be active and kill the time between when I woke up at 6:00 a.m. to the scent of my neighbors burning plastic and 8:00 a.m. when city hall opened.
A small group of people would also walk/run in the morning along a stretch of highway on the outskirts on town, but for the most part, the other Peace Corps Volunteer in Arenillas and I were the only people in town who recreationally ran more than five kilometers.
I'm pretty sure most people thought we were nuts.
So when I moved up to Quito at the beginning of June, I didn't expect to find a thriving running culture. I was wrong.
Five days after I got up here, nearly 20,000 people participated in the Ultimas Noticias 15 km run.
The streets were packed with runners and lined with spectators along the entire route. It was really refreshing to see people so interested in fitness.
This isn't a once-a-year thing. People run in Quito all year. There are tons of people who run in the park near our apartment every morning. On Sundays, they close off one of the main north-south roads to motorized traffic and only open it to bikers and runners.
I'm not exactly sure where this comes from. Ecuador's only Olympic medalist is speed walker Jefferson Perez (and you do see a several speed walkers in the park), but I don't think he inspired a running revolution. The Ultimas Noticias run has been happening for over 50 years now, and Perez won his medal just over a decade ago.
Last week, I participated in the Quito half marathon. This was only the event's fifth year, so it doesn't quite have the following of the Ultimas Noticias run or the Mitad del Mundo Medio Maraton (which is held in November and apparently attracts over 10,000 runners) but it was still a good experience.
My roommate and I have been training for this race for the last few months. It was the longest run she had ever participated it, and I was excited to run this distance at altitude.
You can see my excitement in that picture, which was taken a little over halfway through the race.
I was really pleased with my time and am looking forward to participating in other upcoming runs. For the next couple of weeks though, I'm going to let my legs recover and take it easy.
It was a great way for me to be active and kill the time between when I woke up at 6:00 a.m. to the scent of my neighbors burning plastic and 8:00 a.m. when city hall opened.
A small group of people would also walk/run in the morning along a stretch of highway on the outskirts on town, but for the most part, the other Peace Corps Volunteer in Arenillas and I were the only people in town who recreationally ran more than five kilometers.
I'm pretty sure most people thought we were nuts.
So when I moved up to Quito at the beginning of June, I didn't expect to find a thriving running culture. I was wrong.
Five days after I got up here, nearly 20,000 people participated in the Ultimas Noticias 15 km run.
The streets were packed with runners and lined with spectators along the entire route. It was really refreshing to see people so interested in fitness.
This isn't a once-a-year thing. People run in Quito all year. There are tons of people who run in the park near our apartment every morning. On Sundays, they close off one of the main north-south roads to motorized traffic and only open it to bikers and runners.
I'm not exactly sure where this comes from. Ecuador's only Olympic medalist is speed walker Jefferson Perez (and you do see a several speed walkers in the park), but I don't think he inspired a running revolution. The Ultimas Noticias run has been happening for over 50 years now, and Perez won his medal just over a decade ago.
Last week, I participated in the Quito half marathon. This was only the event's fifth year, so it doesn't quite have the following of the Ultimas Noticias run or the Mitad del Mundo Medio Maraton (which is held in November and apparently attracts over 10,000 runners) but it was still a good experience.
My roommate and I have been training for this race for the last few months. It was the longest run she had ever participated it, and I was excited to run this distance at altitude.
You can see my excitement in that picture, which was taken a little over halfway through the race.
I was really pleased with my time and am looking forward to participating in other upcoming runs. For the next couple of weeks though, I'm going to let my legs recover and take it easy.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Cómo se hace jala
During the time I lived in Arenillas, I baked challah every Friday night for shabbat dinner. My friends in Arenillas really liked the bread and have wanted to learn how to make it. So I put a little how-to video on the YouTube.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The city's largest furniture store
If you are in the market to furnish a home or apartment in Quito, you could go to one of the city's many lavish malls, which are full of brand-name stores helping you outfit your house at brand-name prices.
But if you are interested in doing that at a fraction of the cost, you should go to the 24 de Mayo Market — up the hill from the city's colonial center. If you don't have an arm or a leg to spare, this place is for you.
It might lack the mall scent that invites you to continue perusing until you find the item you are looking for. The 24 de Mayo market smells more like urine - an odor that really makes you think "I'm paying way too much for this."
But that is the price you pay for not paying too much.
Working your way through the market is a game of cat and mouse.
You walk up to one of the stores. The woman asks you what you are interested in, and you tell her. Then she gives you a price.
You mull it over, scratch your beard for a few seconds, and let the silence linger in the air. Then you respond with a counter offer, which the woman promptly rejects being way too low.
So you begin to walk away. At this point, the woman will give a counter offer that isn't what you are willing to pay but is headed in the right direction. So you stick around. At this point, you could repeat your original counter offer if you believe it to be a fair price or you could begin to compromise.
The back and forth continues until you decide upon a price, unless of course you are interested in buying a few items. In this case you leave the original bargain hanging at a price that you are pretty comfortable paying and mention that you might be in the market for another item.
The dance begins again and continues until you are satisfied.
Bargaining is not something that comes naturally to Ecuadorians - or at least that I have witnessed.
I'm not exactly sure why.
Maybe there is a whole social status attached to buying products, the sense that if you don't pay a lot for something then it's not very good. My roommate thinks that they lack the business savvy that says you won't pay more for something than you have to.
This reminds me of one of my favorite stories I have heard from my Peace Corps friends: The Story of the $76 Papaya.
There was a fair at my friend's site and a competition to see which farmer could grow the biggest papaya. Someone from my friend's community won with a gorgeous, organic papaya that weighed 14 pounds (Apparently, that is not a great weight for a championship papaya, but some of the heavy hitters didn't enter the competition for whatever reason.).
So the guy wins the competition and takes home the $75 prize. Then his wife turns around and sells the papaya for $1, which was well below the going market rate for a papaya of that size.
Either way, the lack of business savvy was something that initially surprised me when I got to Ecuador, but I have gotten used to it.
If you are interested in negotiating at the 24 de Mayo Market, a little practice in the art of negotiation can take you a long way.
We pretty much outfitted our entire apartment at this market (beds, mattresses, tables, chairs, couches, etc) and saved several hundred dollars in the process.
The first time we purchased stuff for the apartment at this market, we bought three beds, three mattresses, three small tables, a dinner table, five chairs, and two benches.
One would think that transporting these items from the market to our apartment on the other side of town might be difficult. But the pick-up truck drivers near the market are experts in packing things into and onto the bed of the truck.
With one long piece of rope, he was able to fit all of those purchases into the truck. When it looked like his architectural masterpiece might be a bit unstable, we asked him if he wanted to put something in the cab of the truck for transport. He says, "no, there is always space."
We made it back to the apartment with four people in the cab and all that stuff in the bed.
So when someone suggests that there isn't space to hole anything else, you just tell them that there is always more space.
But if you are interested in doing that at a fraction of the cost, you should go to the 24 de Mayo Market — up the hill from the city's colonial center. If you don't have an arm or a leg to spare, this place is for you.
It might lack the mall scent that invites you to continue perusing until you find the item you are looking for. The 24 de Mayo market smells more like urine - an odor that really makes you think "I'm paying way too much for this."
But that is the price you pay for not paying too much.
Working your way through the market is a game of cat and mouse.
You walk up to one of the stores. The woman asks you what you are interested in, and you tell her. Then she gives you a price.
You mull it over, scratch your beard for a few seconds, and let the silence linger in the air. Then you respond with a counter offer, which the woman promptly rejects being way too low.
So you begin to walk away. At this point, the woman will give a counter offer that isn't what you are willing to pay but is headed in the right direction. So you stick around. At this point, you could repeat your original counter offer if you believe it to be a fair price or you could begin to compromise.
The back and forth continues until you decide upon a price, unless of course you are interested in buying a few items. In this case you leave the original bargain hanging at a price that you are pretty comfortable paying and mention that you might be in the market for another item.
The dance begins again and continues until you are satisfied.
Bargaining is not something that comes naturally to Ecuadorians - or at least that I have witnessed.
I'm not exactly sure why.
Maybe there is a whole social status attached to buying products, the sense that if you don't pay a lot for something then it's not very good. My roommate thinks that they lack the business savvy that says you won't pay more for something than you have to.
This reminds me of one of my favorite stories I have heard from my Peace Corps friends: The Story of the $76 Papaya.
There was a fair at my friend's site and a competition to see which farmer could grow the biggest papaya. Someone from my friend's community won with a gorgeous, organic papaya that weighed 14 pounds (Apparently, that is not a great weight for a championship papaya, but some of the heavy hitters didn't enter the competition for whatever reason.).
So the guy wins the competition and takes home the $75 prize. Then his wife turns around and sells the papaya for $1, which was well below the going market rate for a papaya of that size.
Either way, the lack of business savvy was something that initially surprised me when I got to Ecuador, but I have gotten used to it.
If you are interested in negotiating at the 24 de Mayo Market, a little practice in the art of negotiation can take you a long way.
We pretty much outfitted our entire apartment at this market (beds, mattresses, tables, chairs, couches, etc) and saved several hundred dollars in the process.
The first time we purchased stuff for the apartment at this market, we bought three beds, three mattresses, three small tables, a dinner table, five chairs, and two benches.
One would think that transporting these items from the market to our apartment on the other side of town might be difficult. But the pick-up truck drivers near the market are experts in packing things into and onto the bed of the truck.
With one long piece of rope, he was able to fit all of those purchases into the truck. When it looked like his architectural masterpiece might be a bit unstable, we asked him if he wanted to put something in the cab of the truck for transport. He says, "no, there is always space."
We made it back to the apartment with four people in the cab and all that stuff in the bed.
So when someone suggests that there isn't space to hole anything else, you just tell them that there is always more space.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
A Water Museum?
This weekend, I visited Quito's Yaku Water Museum with my roommate and her sister.
Why would Quito, of all places, have a water museum?
More than 75 percent of the Earth is covered in water. Ninety-seven percent of that water is saltwater. Two percent of the water is locked up in ice caps. That means that one percent of all water on Earth is usable by humans. A miniscule amount of that one percent is found in the area around Quito.
So what's the deal with the water museum?
In the next few years, the Andes could be the site of a water crisis. Quito relies on the surrounding snow-capped volcanoes for water. But as these snow-capped volcanoes become less and less snow-capped as a result of climate change, there could be severe water shortages.
Quito decided that it needed to protect and conserve its watershed. Part of this process was an education campaign that explained the water cycle, the importance of conserving water, and how to do so.
This is where the museum comes in. Located on a western slope of the valley overlooking the Old Town, the city built the interactive Yaku Water Museum the educates residents about water. It's not a typical tourist destination.
The museum receives student groups during the week and is open to the general public on weekends (by the way: the last Saturday of every month is free). The museum is geared toward children.
It starts by explaining the process by which water arrives at our homes: starting on the mountains and streams before being collected in reservoirs and undergoing a purification at the water treatment facility before delivery to individual users.
As I mentioned before, it is a very interactive museum. The exhibit talked about the ways in which we use water. Here I am showing the rest of the tour group the proper way to wash clothes on a rock.
Then, visitors talk with the interactive guides about how they can conserve water.
The second half of the museum tour is full of experiments that the kids can do to learn about the various properties of water. There is even a room where you can play with bubbles.
After completing the tour, visitors can enjoy the views overlooking the valley Quito is in.
Why would Quito, of all places, have a water museum?
More than 75 percent of the Earth is covered in water. Ninety-seven percent of that water is saltwater. Two percent of the water is locked up in ice caps. That means that one percent of all water on Earth is usable by humans. A miniscule amount of that one percent is found in the area around Quito.
So what's the deal with the water museum?
In the next few years, the Andes could be the site of a water crisis. Quito relies on the surrounding snow-capped volcanoes for water. But as these snow-capped volcanoes become less and less snow-capped as a result of climate change, there could be severe water shortages.
Quito decided that it needed to protect and conserve its watershed. Part of this process was an education campaign that explained the water cycle, the importance of conserving water, and how to do so.
This is where the museum comes in. Located on a western slope of the valley overlooking the Old Town, the city built the interactive Yaku Water Museum the educates residents about water. It's not a typical tourist destination.
The museum receives student groups during the week and is open to the general public on weekends (by the way: the last Saturday of every month is free). The museum is geared toward children.
It starts by explaining the process by which water arrives at our homes: starting on the mountains and streams before being collected in reservoirs and undergoing a purification at the water treatment facility before delivery to individual users.
As I mentioned before, it is a very interactive museum. The exhibit talked about the ways in which we use water. Here I am showing the rest of the tour group the proper way to wash clothes on a rock.
Then, visitors talk with the interactive guides about how they can conserve water.
The second half of the museum tour is full of experiments that the kids can do to learn about the various properties of water. There is even a room where you can play with bubbles.
After completing the tour, visitors can enjoy the views overlooking the valley Quito is in.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
More than grocery shopping
Sunday morning, I was walking from my apartment to the local market to buy my produce for the week. I had gone for a long run earlier in the morning and hadn't showered or changed my clothes yet. I went to the market in a soccer jersey, running shorts, and sandals. My roommate also went to the market in her running clothes.
On the way to the market, we bumped into a friend.
Apparently, you don't just go to the market in Quito wearing whatever clothes you have on. This is because you aren't just going to the market to buy groceries. You are going to the market to be seen.
And if someone saw you in running shorts and soccer jersey at the market, that will not bode well for your reputation.
Luckily, I'm not that interested in people in town thinking "Man, that guy has really nice clothes. He must also have a lot of money that we want to rob." I'd rather people be thinking "Man, that guy's soccer jersey only cost him $3 and those shorts only cost him $2. I'll just let him do his shopping in peace."
On the way to the market, we bumped into a friend.
Friend: Where are you going?
Ian: To the market.
Friend: Dressed like that? You look like you should be exercising, not going to the market.
Apparently, you don't just go to the market in Quito wearing whatever clothes you have on. This is because you aren't just going to the market to buy groceries. You are going to the market to be seen.
And if someone saw you in running shorts and soccer jersey at the market, that will not bode well for your reputation.
Luckily, I'm not that interested in people in town thinking "Man, that guy has really nice clothes. He must also have a lot of money that we want to rob." I'd rather people be thinking "Man, that guy's soccer jersey only cost him $3 and those shorts only cost him $2. I'll just let him do his shopping in peace."
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